


Into the Storm

by Witty_Name_Here



Category: Fallout 4, Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fallout (Video Games) Setting, Canon Related, Crossover, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, End of the World, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Explosions, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Missing Persons, Post-Apocalypse, Protective Dean Winchester, Reunions, Saving the World, Tags Contain Spoilers, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27647942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witty_Name_Here/pseuds/Witty_Name_Here
Summary: "Cas is on a hunting trip...and he hasn't checked in for a few days."Three days before the bombs dropped, Castiel goes missing on a hunt near Boston. Sam and Dean, fearing the worst, head to Concord to find the missing angel, but things are not as they seem, and the hunters are captured before making contact with Castiel. When the world ends and the bombs fall, Sam and Dean are left lost and forgotten in Vault 111.Two hundred years later, Dean emerges from his frozen prison to find someone-or something-has kidnapped Sam. Now, he's determined to find Sam, no matter what it takes. Along the way, he'll make new allies, and encounter a face he thought he'd never see again. Will Dean find Sam before it's too late, or will he be forced to do the unthinkable to save what’s left of the Commonwealth?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story will follow the main quest of Fallout 4, with some tweaks along the way to better fit the narrative.

**_October 21, 2077 - The Men of Letters Bunker, Lebanon, KS_ **

The metallic screech of the bunker door opening resounded through the air, setting Dean’s teeth on edge. He turned his phone over in his hand, checking the screen for the tenth time in as many minutes. Sam’s heavy footfalls echoed in the space as he descended the wrought-iron steps, dropping the duffle bags stuffed with supplies on the table in front of Dean. 

“It’s getting bad out there,” Sam said, running a hand across his beard. “I had to drive a hundred miles just to find a single place to restock that hadn’t been picked clean by looters, and I still didn’t find much. Not nearly enough to make up for the time I spent searching. Or the ammo I used.” 

Dean hummed an answer, his mind clearly elsewhere. He glanced at his phone again. _Where the hell is Cas? He should’ve called by now._ Sam continued talking in the background, but Dean wasn’t paying attention. Right now, it all sounded like static from a badly tuned radio. 

“—and there were dancing pornstars lined up on the shoulder of the road and across the highway,” Sam deadpanned, waiting for Dean to catch on to the change in subject. “Bouncing boobs everywhere, man. You shoulda seen it.” 

“That’s great, Sam,” Dean replied automatically, grabbing a duffle and sliding it closer to him, still lost in thought. He pawed through the items stuffed haphazardly inside, muttering under his breath. “No pie?” He whined. 

“No, Dean,” Sam snapped, jerking the bag back across the table. “No pie. What the hell is with you, anyway?” 

Dean shook his head, sighing as he checked his phone again. “Cas is on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t checked in for a few days.” Fear and worry twisted in his gut, and he couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. Constant anxiety wasn’t outside the realm of normal for him though, not since the Michael/Lucifer smackdown ten years ago. The apocalypse had come to town and refused to leave, but people were trying to make the best of it. The survivors had returned to some semblance of normality, other than supplies were growing more scarce by the day. At least no one had used the nuclear option, but it would happen any day now, Dean was sure of it. 

“Dean, Cas is an angel. I’m sure he’s fine,” Sam said, trying to keep his tone light. He knew all too well how meticulous Castiel was about checking in with Sam and Dean when things ran longer than he expected. Sam’s ears were still ringing from the ass-chewing Cas gave him the week before about being unreachable and not checking in as scheduled. “Maybe he just doesn’t have service where he is.” 

“He was hunting the demon’s in Lucifer’s inner circle, trying to get a line on him so that _maybe_ we can stuff him back in the cage, before the entire free world implodes.” Dean shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face. “What if they captured him, Sam? Or worse?” 

“That’s a fair point. What do you want to do?” Sam dumped the contents of both duffle bags across the table, stacking the meager pile of supplies in front of him. 

“I don’t know.” Dean sighed, leaning forward in his chair and cradling his head in his hands. “You’re right, he’s probably fine and I’m probably overreacting. But I have a bad feeling something is wrong, Sam.” 

“Alright,” Sam said, opening his laptop. “Where was he headed the last time you spoke to him?” 

Dean swallowed, turning his phone over and glancing at the notifications. Still nothing. “Somewhere near Boston, I think.” He flicked his thumb up the screen, scrolling up through the last several messages from Castiel three days before. “Concord.” 

Sam nodded, then went to work on his laptop, his fingers flying across the keys as he hacked into what was left of the traffic camera and GPS databases. It became much easier to do when no one worried too much about security anymore. It was too difficult to worry about privacy when you were busy running your ass away from feathery dicks and just trying to stay alive one more day. “Okay, so it looks like he made it to Concord. His phone last pinged off a cell tower in a suburb not too far northwest of there. A place called, uh, Sanctuary Hills?” 

Sam shrugged, his eyes scanning the screen for anything else notable. Dean stared at Sam with a confused frown, waiting. “Hey Dean? When was the last time Cas checked in?” 

“Three days ago. Why?” Dean asked, his brow furrowing in concern. 

“Because according to this, the last GPS transmission that came in two hours ago is in the exact same place as it was three days ago,” Sam said, pointing at the screen as he turned the laptop around to show Dean.” 

“So—road trip?” Dean asked, standing up and heading toward his room to pack up his gear. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Dean? It’s after dark, and it’s worse now than it used to be,” Sam said, trying not to shudder at the things he’d seen while out on his supply run. Everyone was on the verge of starvation, even the monsters. Sam was lucky he made it back to the bunker in one piece. 

“Sam, Cas may need our help. I’m not going to abandon him just because things got a little ugly around here. If you want to stay here where it’s safe, that’s fine, but I’m going to go find Cas. It’s about a day’s drive to Massachusetts, so I vote for leaving now.” 

“You know I can’t let you go alone, Dean. So road trip it is—but we get a few hours sleep and leave at first light. Trust me on this.” 

“Fine,” Dean growled, stomping off toward his room, muttering curses under his breath. 

“And bring all the ammo you can find,” Sam called after him, “we’re definitely going to need it.” 

Within two hours, Dean had loaded the Impala with all the weapons and ammo the trunk compartment would hold. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep, so he focused on making sure Baby was road ready. The fewer stops they had to make on the way, the better. He hadn’t seen Sam since their conversation, and Dean wondered if there was a reason Sam was reluctant to leave the bunker. He shrugged it off easily though, Sam _had_ been the one to go out on the last three supply runs, and if he said shit was getting bad, it was probably bad. 

Dean found Sam in his room, holding his phone in front of himself and signing in front of the screen. Sam held up one finger when Dean appeared in the doorway, and Dean waited, listening to the last part of his conversation. “I know, I know, Eileen. No, we’ll be careful. I love you too, be safe.” Sam kissed his fingers, then touched the screen and waved as he ended the call. 

“She’s not happy about this, is she?” Dean asked, perching on the end of Sam’s bed. “I’m sorry, Sam. Look, it’s okay if you wanna stay here, I get it.” 

“No,” Sam replied with a sigh, “she’s not happy about it, but it’s not like either of us have anything else we can do. We’re stuck here and she’s stuck in Ireland with no way to get back here, and she knows how important Cas is to you—to us. The last thing she’d want is you to go after him alone. It’s not what I want either.” 

Dean nodded, glancing at Sam with sad eyes. “I can’t lose him too, Sam. Not after—” he paused, taking a deep breath to calm his shaking voice. 

“I know, Dean,” Sam said, touching Dean’s shoulder with one hand as he got up and grabbed his duffle bag. “I know. So how about we go find your angel?” 


	2. Chapter 2

**_October 22, 2077, Just outside of Sanctuary Hills, MA_ **

Dean stifled his fourth yawn in the last fifteen minutes as the Impala crossed the Old North Bridge and rolled into the suburb of Sanctuary Hills. The twenty-odd hour drive from Kansas left Dean weary beyond words, but he was too close to possibly finding Cas to worry about that now. As the miles counted down to their destination, the pit in Dean’s gut grew wider as an unshakeable feeling of dread fell across him like a curtain across a stage. 

Dean tried to tell himself it was just his anxiety, but somehow he knew this was different. He glanced over at Sam, who was studying something on his phone. “Hey Sam?” 

“Mhm?” Sam said, not looking up. 

“You know this is probably a trap, right?” Dean said, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white as he turned off on a dirt road leading into a wooded area to the northwest of Sanctuary Hills. 

“Yep,” Sam sighed, “but we gotta start somewhere. If someone’s taken Cas, we won’t stop until we find him and bring him home.” 

Dean nodded, parking the Impala just off the road near a wooden footbridge. “End of the line,” he said, fishing his phone out of his pocket and staring at the screen. He squinted out the windshield toward the top of the hill on the other side of the stream. “The signal from Cas’ phone is pinging from up there somewhere. I guess we’re walking from here.” 

Sam nodded, stifling his own yawn. “Let’s go.” He pushed open the door, climbing out and slamming the door behind him. Dean blew out a breath and followed Sam, unlocking the trunk. He grabbed a duffle bag and tossed it to Sam, then slammed the lid closed. 

“Alright, how do you want to do this?” Dean asked, glancing at Sam as he checked the magazine on his weapon. Sam mimicked Dean’s movements, glancing up the hill through the treeline. 

“Just—be ready for anything,” Sam replied, heading toward the bridge. “Something seems—off about this whole thing.” 

“Tell me about it,” Dean muttered, following Sam across the bridge and up the dirt path. The reek of rotten eggs permeated the area as they topped the hill, and Dean exchanged a knowing look with Sam as he cleared his throat and tried to ignore his watering eyes. Dean glanced at his phone screen again, then jammed it back into his jacket pocket and readied his weapon as they entered the clearing. He scanned the area and found it deserted, except for a few shipping containers and a massive metal iris-style door built into the ground. 

“What the hell is that thing?” Sam said, following Dean as he investigated the contraption. Dean didn’t answer, mostly because he assumed the question was rhetorical, but also because he had no idea. Truthfully, he didn’t care if it was a gate to hell as long as he found Cas waiting on the other side of it. 

Dean’s phone gave off a short vibration as he and Sam stepped onto the platform, alerting him that he’d reached his destination. “The tracker says we should be standing on top of his phone, but obviously that’s not the case. “I guess we’re going down.” Dean rolled his shoulders, jamming his fist into the button. 

“Guess so,” Sam replied, gritting his teeth as the lift jerked into motion and the sounds of metal screeching filled the air. Neither of them spoke as they made the interminable journey to the bottom of the shaft. The scent of sulfur was more pungent now, and Dean’s mouth watered as he choked down the urge to gag. What the hell was Cas even doing in a place like this? 

The elevator stopped with a bang, the metal safety gates swinging open as a catwalk slid forward to meet them. Dean surveyed the area, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. It was quiet. Too quiet. Is this what Cas had walked into? Was he even here? He stepped forward onto the steel walkway, his footsteps echoing hollowly around the chamber as he walked. 

“This must be one of those Vault-Tec vaults,” Sam commented, picking up a clipboard from a nearby table. He took another glance around, then turned to Dean. “I don’t think there’s anyone here, Dean. If Cas _was_ here, he’s long gone now. Let’s just get back topside and figure out what to do next.” 

Dean ignored him, creeping along the walkway toward the rows of pods lining the back wall. “What the hell?” He murmured, not noticing the shifting shadows to his left. He stared at the pods, his mind unable to comprehend why Vault-Tec would’ve put them here, of all places. It just didn’t make sense. 

“Dean!” Sam yelled, but it was too late. Dean spun, searching for Sam as a dart shot out of the darkness and lodged in his neck, spreading paralytic toxin through his veins. Dean stumbled, falling back into one of the open pods, unable to move, speak or breathe. He blinked, trying to focus on the area where Sam stood moments before, but all he could see through his blurry vision was the still form of Sam’s body sprawled on the walkway. 

Dean didn’t recognize the black-eyed figure that stepped into his line of sight, and he squinted, trying to commit the face to memory. “Sorry about this, boys. It really wasn’t a fair fight, but orders are orders and killing you wasn’t an option. Seems like doing that never ends well, anyway. It’s almost as if you two have ‘Return to Sender’ tattooed across your ass.” 

Dean grunted, the paralytic making it impossible to do anything else, and the demon ignored him, pacing the walkway between the pods as he continued talking. “Anyway, the decision was handed down by the Big Guy himself that you two _cockroaches_ are not to be killed. That’s right, Lucifer himself doesn’t want to kill you two. You should be honored, because instead of putting a bullet in your brain or ripping out your spine through your asshole, we’re gonna put you on ice. You’ll be outta the way, and stop being a royal pain in the collective ass of all demonkind. Have a nice sleep, dickbags.” 

The demon turned away, waving to the others to hurry up as they drug Sam’s still body across the floor toward the pod opposite Dean, shoving him inside. One demon jabbed a red button on the side of the pod with his fist, and the pods closed as Dean stared through the glass, angry and helpless. Vengeance was the only thing on his mind as the sharp tip of a needle punctured between his shoulder blades. Dean sucked a breath between his teeth as icy serum spread through his veins, his whole body shivering as his muscles tried desperately to keep his body temperature regulated. 

After a few seconds, his muscles and teeth stopped moving, and his eyelids grew heavy as sleep beckoned him into its warm embrace of oblivion. He refused to close his eyes,y instead staring across the aisle at the pod where Sam was trapped, his face unmoving as he succumbed to the sleep serum. Dean opened his mouth and let out a wordless scream as the needle withdrew from his back, and within moments the world went black.

**_October 23, 2077, Vault 111, Sanctuary Hills, MA_ **

People scurried about inside the vault, issuing orders and directions as residents of Sanctuary Hills flooded inside, shell-shocked and in disbelief to the devastation they’d only caught a glimpse of as the bombs dropped. Vault-Tec employees moved about the space, placing the residents into their “decontamination pods” and promising the people a tour of their new home after the process was completed. 

As dozens of people milled about the massive space, Vault 111 was a stark contrast to the empty, echoing chamber it was not even twenty-four hours before. No one seemed to notice the two people already locked inside the pods tucked away in the corner, their frozen features twisted into heart-wrenching looks of loss. Nor did the new ‘residents’ of Vault 111 know or care that the two men trapped inside those cryogenic prisons were the last generation of a pre-apocalypse breed of monster hunter. Humanity was doomed with Sam and Dean Winchester out of commission, because now who would save people from all the things that went bump in the night? 


	3. Chapter 3

_**October 2210, Vault 111** _

“Is it even here?” Kellogg said, waving his gun at the two Institute lackeys he’d been saddled with on this retrieval mission as his voice echoed off the vault walls. 

“Y-Yes sir,” one scientist said, swallowing hard as he typed away at the computer terminal. “Pod C-6, on the end.” 

“Great. Let’s get it and get the hell outta here,” Kellogg snapped, waving his gun toward the cryogenic pods. The scientist hit a few more keys, then turned toward the pods with a self-satisfied sigh.

“That’s it,” he said as the pod at the end of the hallway opened. Sam stumbled out of the pod, blinking hard and trying to focus on the three shapes in front of him. 

“There we go,” the woman scientist said, reaching for Sam’s arm as she jammed a needle into his neck. “That’s it.”

“What the hell did you do that for?” the other scientist demanded. “He’s huge and now we have to carry his dead weight all the way out of this god-forsaken vault!”

“And you think he would’ve come with us willingly?” the woman shot back, eyes narrowing behind the shield of her hood. “The reason the Director wanted him is the very reason he needs to remain sedated. It’s for our safety, you idiot. We don’t want Mr. Kellogg to have to kill him.”

“At least if I had to, there’s a back up,” Kellogg growled, peering into the pod where Dean currently resided. Dean was partially awake inside the pod, enough to see and hear everything going on outside but unable to move or speak, and his eyes bored into Kellogg’s as he tried to memorize every feature of his face.

“That one is not a suitable test subject, sir,” the female scientist said. “Too much damage to his body in his short lifespan. This one took better care of himself.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we won’t have to shoot the giant one then,” Kellogg sighed, stepping away from the pod. “Lock them up and let’s go.”

“Already done, sir,” the male scientist said. “Shall we?”

~~~~~

_**October 23, 2270, Vault 111** _

Dean’s eyes popped open as his ears started ringing like someone had just struck a tuning fork next to his head. What the hell? He groaned, his skin feeling like thousands of tiny needles pricking him as the last of the cryogenic serum left his bloodstream. Dean shook his head, pressing his hands to the glass and giving it a violent shove. The door gave easily, the pressure lock releasing with a hiss. 

“Sam?!” Dean called out as he stumbled forward out of the pod. His voice echoed off the walls of the now empty vault, the fear and desperation in that single word piercing him through the heart. Where the hell was everyone?

He wandered around the vault, searching behind every possible door for Sam, refusing to admit the truth about what he’d seen. Sam had been abducted, but by who? Why? And how the hell did anyone know they were down here, since this place appeared to be deserted a long time ago. How long had they been frozen down here?

As he searched for Sam, Dean tried to piece together what happened in the vault, with little luck. He entered the overseer’s office to find more of the same filth and chaos as the rest of the vault. It was as though time had marched right through this place, chewed it up and spit it out, leaving it forgotten in the wake of eternity. Dean swallowed hard, shaking his head. 

_Calm down! You don’t know how long you’ve been down here. It could’ve only been a few days._

Dean snorted at the thought, taking in the condition of everything in sight. He and Sam had probably been frozen for a hell of a lot longer than a few days. He grabbed the overturned desk chair and sat in front of the computer. Hacking was always Sammy’s thing, but maybe he might be able to crack it. It was worth a shot anyway.

Twenty minutes and three f-bomb fueled rants later, the computer remained just as locked as it had been when Dean started. He shot up from the chair, turning and smashing the glass display case behind the overseer’s desk as his frustration boiled over. He picked up the gun laying amongst the glass shards, a half-smile crawling across his face. It wasn’t his standard weapon, those were long gone now, no doubt, but it would do alright. Dean tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans, glancing around for any spare ammo or anything else of value, then left the overseer’s office and headed back to the vault entrance. 

A pip-boy strapped around the bony forearm of a skeleton caught Dean’s eye as he approached the catwalk to the elevator. Hopefully that computer would be more accommodating than the overseer’s terminal. It wasn’t like the dead guy was going to be needing it. Dean picked it up, fiddling with the strap as he put it on, and to his surprise it started right up when he touched the screen. “Awesome,” he muttered to himself, “I always wanted one of these.”

Dean slapped the button for the elevator, gritting his teeth against the screeching grind of the gears as they jerked the platform into motion, and he tried not to think about just how long he and Sam had been hidden away. What had happened to Cas? Fear and doubt crowded his thoughts as the iris door opened and the sun blinded him. He threw up an arm to shield his face, grunting as the elevator jerked to a stop. 

Dean turned around in a complete circle on the platform, taking in his surroundings. What the hell happened out here? Everything was dead, rusted, and broken down. 

_Baby! What happened to Baby?!_

Dean raced down the path he and Sam had walked up what seemed like only yesterday to where he’d left the car, just across the now broken footbridge that spanned the stream. Baby was sitting right where Dean left her, looking more than a little worse for wear. Her shiny black paint was now nothing but rust, and the windows had been blown out ages ago. A low groan escaped him as he ran his hands along the side of the broken down Impala. “Oh my god, Baby,” he breathed. “What happened to you?”

Dean fished the keys from his pocket and opened the trunk, somewhat pleased to find the arsenal he and Sam had packed still mostly intact. The weapons were in dire need of cleaning but the magical symbols of protection spray painted on the underside of the trunk lid seemed to be useful for more than just keeping demons out. 

It was quiet, he realized. Too quiet. Where the hell were all the people? Was there anyone even left in Sanctuary Hills? Dean shook his head, shoving everything he could carry into the duffle bags, then loaded his favorite shotgun and headed up the path toward Sanctuary Hills. Surely there would be people there.

Dean reached the end of the dirt road that led toward the vault, and he stood in horror and confusion at the ruined cul-de sac. What the hell happened? He started up the road, looking for any sign of life. Absorbed in his own questions and thoughts he didn’t notice the robot hovering near one of the destroyed houses until it was in front of him.

“Hello, sir,” it said in a slightly British accent. “I am Codsworth. Can I help you?” Dean’s mouth hung slightly open as he stared at the robot floating patiently in front of him.

“I, uh,” Dean stammered, “I’m not sure. What happened here?”

“The bombs came, and everyone fled. Where have you been, my boy?” Codsworth asked.

“I was—trapped in the Vault,” Dean replied, feeling a little bit ridiculous for carrying on a conversation with a robot as though it truly understood what was going on around it. “Up on the hill.”

“Vault 111?” Codsworth asked. Dean thought his voice sounded almost—hopeful. “Have you seen my owners? Nate and Nora Shaffer? They have a young son—Shaun. Please tell me you’ve seen them.”

Dean shook his head, taking a step backward. “Sorry, buddy. If they went into the vault, they’re all dead or gone. There’s nothing left in there but huge cockroaches and bodies.”

“I knew it was a long shot,” Codsworth said sadly. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

“What year is it?” Dean asked. “I was trapped in the vault and we were—frozen or something. I don’t know how long we were down there.”

“It’s October 23, 2270 my good man,” Codsworth replied. “And who are you referring to? You’re the only one here, sir.”

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed, stumbling backward slightly. He’d been frozen for 210 years? Talk about being a man out of time. 

“Sir?”

“Oh, uh, sorry Codsworth,” Dean shook his head, trying to make sense of everything. “My brother—Sam—and I went into the vault October 22, 2077. I don’t know how long we were down there before someone broke in and abducted him. I need to find my brother.”

“Well, I believe there are people still alive in Concord. They might be able to help,” Codsworth said. “They’ve only shot at me a few times.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head. “Alright, Concord it is I guess.” He glanced at the sky, the sun already dipping low into the western sky. “Tomorrow. Tonight, I need to find a place to stay.” He wandered throughout Sanctuary Hills until dark, looting whatever he could find that looked useful, then drug a cleanish looking mattress into the back bedroom of one of the houses and settled in for the night. 

The thought of sleeping was disconcerting, and Dean had no desire to fall asleep again for a while, lest he wake up in another 210 years. He fiddled with the settings on his new pip-boy, studying the map of the Boston Metro Area as he tried to plan his route. He hadn’t really let himself think about Sam all that much. His brother was gone, abducted and taken God only knew where, and Cas—what the hell had happened to him? Had he survived? The only thing Dean knew for sure right now was that he’d failed the two people most important to him in what was left of this doomed little world.

There was nothing to be done about it tonight though, and he forced the thoughts from his mind as he laid on the mattress that smelled of mildew and smoke. Tomorrow he would tear apart the entire Commonwealth to find Sam if that’s what he had to do. There was no place on earth that mercenary fucker who leered through the pod window at Dean could hide. The thought of vengeance comforted Dean as he rolled onto his back and forced himself into a light sleep, Codsworth floating just on the other side of the doorway and keeping a watchful eye for danger.


End file.
